


...and a whisper on the wind...

by bereft_of_frogs



Series: hard road [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Nightmares, Past Torture, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Sickfic, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Trauma, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-19 10:10:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22809436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bereft_of_frogs/pseuds/bereft_of_frogs
Summary: The princes travel. They avoid detection. Loki slowly recovers.Until one night, he wakes and cannot move.[Sleep paralysis. Two episodes.]
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Series: hard road [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1449076
Comments: 24
Kudos: 234





	...and a whisper on the wind...

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write something with sleep paralysis, and like everything with this series, this just came to me in a flash this week! Enjoy!
> 
> Additional warnings: past torture, reference to execution; the second episode contains vague implications of sexual assault (but nothing too explicit)

I.

It has been little more than two weeks since they fled Asgard. They left the first inn on horseback and journeyed into the mountains. After a few days of traveling, Loki’s fever returned, making his teeth chatter with the force of his chills and his bones ache.

Thor cups his cheek, blue eyes filled with worry. “We have to find somewhere to rest. Somewhere inside, warm, with a real bed. Before you get worse again.”

“I am _fine_. We shouldn’t risk it.” Loki tries to stop his convulsive shivers and fails. He coughs. There is a dull ache starting just under his sternum, and when Thor shoots him a firm look, he doesn’t further protest.

They ride into the valley and find a small inn with a stable. Thor dismounts and leads the horse towards the stable. The innkeeper takes a look at their dirty and worn clothes and offers Thor labor in exchange for board.

“What do you think?” Thor whispers as he helps Loki down from the saddle.

“It would save us funds,” Loki responds, drawing his cloak closer around his shoulders. “And it would throw off any suspicion about our station, if it seems that we must labor to afford a night at the inn.”

“True.” Thor straightens. “Can you stand?” Loki nods, but Thor keeps a steadying hand on his back as he turns back to the innkeeper. “Thank you for your generous offer. I accept.”

“It won’t be too luxurious, but the room will be dry and I’ll throw in a hot dinner if you help me clear the dying tree in the back pasture.”

“We have a deal. But my br-” Thor at the last second seems to remember that they had decided to pretend not to be related when encountering strangers, hopefully to further disguise their identities. “My friend is very ill…” Loki just barely restrains from rolling his eyes, but at the same time, there are spots appearing in his vision and sweat is beading at his temples and the nape of his neck. “I need to take care of him first. If I could settle him in bed, then I can return.”

The innkeeper glances at Loki and apparently he looks bad enough that he immediately agrees. “See to your companion. We start at first light.”

They are shown to a room on the ground floor, with two twin beds and a wide hearth. Thor does have to purchase a bundle of firewood and leaves Loki to settle in. There is a mirror above the small basin. Once he has unpacked some of their bags, he takes the opportunity to check himself in the tarnished mirror. Loki indeed has returned to looking ghostly, pale with dark circles under his eyes. The few pounds he was able to put on in his recovery have melted away again, his cheekbones jutting out from his skin. He lifts his shirt and can count his ribs. He has to admit that Thor was right, that they needed to take a break from the wilderness or risk the little progress he’s made.

At least his magic is singing, soothing and stable, even if his body hasn’t caught up yet.

Thor returns with a bundle of logs and two steaming bowls of stew. He sets the bowls on the table and starts to pile the wood into the hearth.

“I can use my-”

“Brother. We can, for one night, use a normal, mortal methods of starting a fire. You should not strain yourself.”

“Fine. I will just watch you struggle then.” He sits on the bed closer to the fire and crosses his arms.

Thor smirks back. “You really think I am so useless without you? I’ve been starting our campfires for weeks.”

“Perhaps,” Loki says quietly as the kindling catches. “I am just feeling rather useless myself.”

“Don’t be silly.” Thor stands. “You’re recovering.”

“I’m useless. Just a corpse you’re dragging around.”

“Hm. A corpse would be decided less resistant and mouthy. Would smell _foul_ though. Fine, fine, you win, you are a better traveling companion than a corpse.”

“Thor,” Loki groans. “You are not funny.”

“Now I know that’s not true. In your infirmity, you have apparently forgotten that I am indeed hilarious.”

“You’re just trying to lighten the mood.”

Thor sighs and brings him his portion of soup. “I am. Come, brother, we cannot always be overwrought and dire. And besides, we have a warm room for the night. I am in a good mood. Aren’t you?”

It’s a pointed question. Thor is not asking necessarily about Loki’s mood, but rather trying to weasel out of him how he feels.

“I have been better,” Loki says after a moment. “But then I have been worse as well.”

“Are you in pain?”

Doing away with the subtleties then. “A bit. Not bad.”

“Are you hungry?” Loki shrugs. “Will you eat regardless?” Thor looks pleased when he agrees. And he watches like a hawk until the bowl is empty.

Loki’s already dragging by the time he’s done. His spine feels bent from fatigue, his belly just on the edge of being uncomfortably full, spreading warmth through his body.

He laughs.

“What is it?” Thor asks.

“You were right. I hate it when you’re right. This was a good idea. Worth the risk.”

Thor merely smiles patiently. A gentle push and Loki is falling towards the pillows. Thor covers him with the worn inn blankets then the quilt Loki has sentimentally dragged all over creation.

“Sleep well.” Thor’s voice comes from far away.

Loki sleeps, deep and dreamless. Until he is woken in the darkness by Thor’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s almost dawn,” Thor says quietly. “I have to meet the innkeeper to do the labor I promised.” Loki murmurs his understanding, then groans and turns his face into the pillow. “I only did not want you to wake alone. You can go back to sleep now.”

Loki dozes as Thor dresses and restarts the fire.

“I’ll be back soon.” Thor’s hand rests on his shoulder. He leans down and presses a kiss to Loki’s hair. The weight on his shoulder disappears. The door creaks open, then clicks shut again.

Loki falls back to sleep.

Loki hears voices. He opens his eyes. The ceiling of the inn swims before him but he can’t focus on any one spot. He tries to move, to find the source of the voices but he can’t. He can’t budge. Can’t move any of his muscles. It’s like a weight has settled on his chest, like he has been tied down to the bed but absent of any physical restraints.

He is not alone. When he manages to look around him, he sees figures in his room. There are Einherjar circling around him in the little room. They are dressed in their golden armor, scarlet caps over their shoulders. They are talking among themselves but Loki cannot understand any of the words, can’t make out any meaning. Most are carrying swords; one is carrying an axe.

_Where’s Thor?_ he wants to scream. He wants to tear them apart, wants to flee, to impress upon them that he had enchanted his brother, it wasn’t his fault, maybe one of them could get out of this alive-

But he cannot move. Not even a finger. He cannot speak. His throat closes with every second. An enchantment, it must be, but what sorcerer would be strong and subtle enough to catch him off guard, to cast such a spell on his body without even waking him.

_Any of them_ , is the answer. Any of them could do it, with how weak his body has become.

He can’t even reach his magic to try to break the spell. He tries, fights, but only succeeds in making a low, animalistic groaning sound deep in his throat.

The Einherjar’s gibberish conversation grows more firm, insistent. The one with the axe steps forward and makes a gesture that silences the rest. He looks directly at Loki’s face. His expression is stern, emotionless.

“For your crimes, the All-father has sentenced you, Loki Laufeyson, to die.”

_No. NO._ The Einherjar raises the axe. For a moment it hangs at the apex of the swing. Loki fights, panicked and desperate, with tears stinging in his eyes and the air gone from his lungs. The Einherjar sends the axe down, on a perfect arc towards Loki’s throat-

He vanishes just before the strike. The figures all vanish and suddenly Loki can breathe and move again, sitting bolt upright in bed. His chest heaves as he sucks in air.

The remains of his dinner surge into his throat. He manages to lean over the side of the bed just in time to vomit them up onto the floor. As the retches slow, he realizes he’s shaking hard, wretched sobs down from his throat.

It takes a long time but slowly he calms down, though he does not stop shaking. He remembers the reality. Thor had left before dawn to work the land for the innkeeper. It was barely midmorning. Loki is alone, undiscovered, and thus far safe. “A dream,” He half laughs to himself. “It was just a dream.”

He does not stop shaking. He manages to collect himself, to get to his feet and use a rag to clean up the vomit. He puts another couple logs on the fire then sits on the bed with his back to the wall and waits for Thor to return.

Thor comes back, covered in dirt and sweat, as the sun outside is tilting towards noon. He takes one look at Loki and his face falls.

“What is it?” Thor rushes to his side, touches his face. “Norns, Loki, what happened, do you need-”

“I’m fine,” Loki says but his voice sounds raw. “I’m fine it’s just…” He laughs, a little hysterically. “A nightmare.”

He manages to tell Thor what happened, about the dream of the Einherjar swarming in the small room, and the way he could not move or breathe. “It felt so real. I feel rather…foolish now but it felt so real at the time.”

“I should not have left you. I should have-”

“You cannot… _hover_ over me constantly, Thor.” Loki is tired. Tired of being so useless, so sick. His upset at his illness spills over into uncharitable irritation with his brother. He returns to an argument they’ve had several times since fleeing Asgard. “Why are you doing this anyways? Why are you…so insistent on-”

“This argument again.” Thor stands and scrubs a hand over his mouth. “You constantly ask me why, as if you have missed the fact that I care for you and I want to protect you and that I made my decision when I took you from the prisons.”

“And you should not have. Because one day that dream will come true, brother. They will catch up to us-” _-and if not the Einherjar, the other forces combing the cosmos for him-_ “I have accepted the axe, I accepted my fate, you should too. You should do the sensible thing and leave my dead weight behind and _run_.”

Thor sits back on the bed. “Hm. No. You should stop entreating me to abandon you, brother, it’s getting rather stale.” Loki’s eyes and throat sting. He clears his throat and wipes at the corner of his eye. Thor ignores him. He reaches up and feels Loki’s forehead. “You’re feverish again.”

Thor goes back to chattering about Loki’s recovery, talking about getting him some tea, and how they both have to bathe, and the last dregs of the strange nightmare finally leave him. He cannot shake the feeling that it will one day come true, but as he listens to his brother’s chatter, as the memory of the dream fades, it all seems less dire.

When he goes to sleep that night, he fears that it will happen again. He fears that his body will betray him yet again, trapping him in a nightmare where he cannot move or breathe, but he wakes after a dreamless night to sunlight streaming in through the dirty windows and Thor snoring in the other bed.

II.

Several months later, on a bedroll on the hard and dusty ground, it happens again.

Something wakes Loki, he doesn’t know what. But he feels a weight pressing on his stomach and when he tries to move, he finds it utterly impossible to move a single muscle.

“Hello, Loki.”

If he could open his mouth he would scream at the voice. He blinks and his vision clears. Ebony Maw sits straddling his stomach, smiling down at him. “I have so missed you.”

Loki chokes. Thor is at his side. Ebony Maw pays him no mind. His spindly fingers push aside the blankets. Loki tries to move, to protest, but the breath is caught in his throat.

“You thought you could escape me? Thought you could just run away after we taught you? Molded you? We inducted you into our family and you betrayed us?” He glances over at Thor’s prone form on the other side of the campfire. “Just like you betray your adopted family, telling us all their secrets and putting your brother in danger like this. Just as you betrayed your blood family, slaughtering them.” Maw’s hand slides up the sweat-slicked muscles of his abdomen, pushing up his shirt. “Would it not be easier to at least uphold our Master’s great vision? That would be one thing you could accomplish in your wretched life.”

Maw’s hand is under his shirt, over his sternum. He knows what comes next. Pain. Violation. Maw’s specialty was breaking sorcerers. He not only excelled in it, he _delighted_ in it. There would be agony, until Loki was gagging and begging for it to stop, but it would never stop, just as Maw would never stop touching him, he would never be free of his grip, his presence in his mind-

Maw leans down. His face hovers just above Loki’s, the heel of his hand presses hard into his sternum. Maw smiles wide, his breath is hot on Loki’s face. Maw drops his head down and sinks teeth into the muscle of his neck. Loki can almost feel the way Maw would bore his power into his own. The moment before the pain starts the hallucination breaks. Maw disappears, his weight lifts and Loki is able to sit upright, gasping for breath.

Thor is startled awake. “Loki!”

Loki becomes aware that he is making a sort of keening sound, fingers tangled in his hair. He’s rocking back and forth, shaking as hard as he was after the first of these episodes. The awareness of his body returns to him slowly. He feels numb for a long time, locked into the memories as he had just been locked into the nightmare.

Thor keeps his hands on his shoulders, quiet until Loki calms down enough to take a deep breath.

“A dream?” Thor asks.

Loki nods. “But. Worse.” He can’t catch his breath. He wheezes. “Like…like the one in the inn, all those months ago. I could not move or speak…”

“Was it the Einherjar again?”

Loki shudders violently. “No.”

Thor’s expression darkens. “Was it…?”

He nods. “One…one of the Black Order…his officers…”

“We do not have to do this now,” Thor cuts him off. Over the past weeks, since the initial revelation of what had happened during the year Loki had been missing, he had been giving details in small snippets, before he became too overwhelmed to continue. Sometimes he could talk for an hour, sometimes only five minutes.

Loki shakes his head. “I am sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t be.” Thor rubs his arm. “Have you had these spells before? Before…everything, I mean. This is twice now you’ve had these episodes of paralysis.”

“Never.”

“Perhaps it is an effect of the mage-sickness?”

Loki shivers. “I hope not. I hope…and I hope it does not happen again.” He manages a sort of crooked smile, but it falls away quickly. He hates being so afraid of such a necessary thing. He needs to sleep. Even now, with his sickness mostly gone, he still sleeps more than he ever has, still feels its tug early in the evening and often doesn’t rise until Thor is shaking him awake in the morning. After the first of these episodes he had hesitated going to sleep at night, fearful of waking in the same fashion. He would put it off until he was dizzy and nauseous with exhaustion. Only the return of his regular, more manageable nightmares convinced him it would not happen every time he closed his eyes.

“You should…you should go back to bed, brother,” Loki says. “I will not likely be able to return to sleep myself tonight.”

Thor shakes his head. “Then I’ll sit up with you. You don’t have to talk, you don’t have to explain. We can just sit until the dawn, if that’s what you want.”

Loki thinks about protesting but knows that it is impossible to talk Thor out of such things these days. He softens. “Fine. Thank you.”

It is a warm night, so they keep the fire banked. It makes it easier to see the stars. They lean back on a fallen log and settle into silence, broken only by the occasional cry of an animal in the distance.

The sky is starting to lighten at the edges when Loki feels the words bubbling up inside him.

“It was one of his favorite lieutenants,” Loki says when he can’t hold it in any more. “His name was Ebony Maw. I don’t know if that was his given name. I don’t know what planet he was from, what station his family was of, where he received his training…but he had a particular talent for magic. Perhaps once he could have been a well-respected mage of his own right, but instead the years with Thanos had twisted his powers and his mind. He was the most zealous of all of them and instead of doing much magic - at least that I saw - he turned his talents to torturing his fellow mages instead.”

Thor stiffens, but does not interrupt him. That had been a learning process as well. The first few of these sessions Thor would inevitably interrupt him and then Loki would clam up and nothing productive would be done. Now Thor just lets him talk, vent out the words that build up in his chest.

“So of course, we spent quite a bit of time together.” Loki lets out a watery laugh. “He was the one who planted the tether in my brain, the one for the Other to check on my progress and ensure I had not betrayed them. I became sort of…a favorite pet of his. Or project. He was convinced that he could bring me round to seeing Thanos’s side of things. He believed that of everyone, I suppose. He was so convinced of his master’s great vision for the universe that he thought those who opposed him just needed to have their eyes opened.” Thor shifts beside him, breaking him a little out of the fog of memory. “In any case. I am particularly concerned that he is coming for me. He will have taken my failure and betrayal as a personal slight, evidence that his work on me was unfinished or flawed. I believe he will try again and that…that will involve a great many things I am not keen to experience again.”

“It was him,” Thor says. He sounds like he’s forcibly stamping down his fury. “It was him, wasn’t it? He who caused the injuries to your magic, that made you react so poorly to the bonds on the cells?”

“Hm. Perhaps.” Loki indulges himself. He leans sideways until his head is resting against Thor’s shoulder. Thor relaxes a bit as well, some of the tension draining out of him. “I thought it was _everything_. That it was all Maw’s meddling, what the Void wrung out of me, the strain of using my magic in battle so soon after…and finally the bonds on the cells delivering the near-killing blow.”

Thor hums, displeased. “Very near, indeed.”

“We will have answers soon, perhaps.”

“Yes. Hopefully Mother will be able to tell us more.”

Ever since Loki had revealed the looming threat of Thanos, their mother had turned into a childishly mythic figure. Thor immediately wanted to seek her out and they had each convinced themselves that she would have the answers, she would take care of everything. If Loki allowed himself to properly consider the situation, he would admit that it was very, very likely that their mother would _not_ have the answers. He had been her student for hundreds of years, it was very likely that she wouldn’t know what to do any better than they did. But they were tired, worn bone weary by constant travel. They were cold and often hungry and deep inside they were little more than boys who wanted their mother to come fix everything.

“Perhaps she will know what to do about these episodes,” Thor says. He sounds only faintly hopeful though.

“Perhaps.” Loki leans closer. Even if he acknowledges his mother’s lack of omnipotence, he still wanted to see her. He hadn’t since his fall into the Void. Like a child, he desperately wanted his mother’s comfort.

If they pushed themselves the next day, they would make it to the next town. A town that should have sufficient resources to get a message through to Asgard, seedy enough that they might be able to avoid the All-father’s gaze.

For now, they sit together in silence as the sun comes up and chases away the dregs of bad dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this short and somewhat plotless whump-y fic. I certainly enjoyed writing it, ha. It's nice to take a break from working on the thing-I-should-be-working-on and just indulging myself with nightmare/illness recovery fic. :-) This did spawn a little idea for a fic diving into to some of the nastiness behind Loki's interactions with Ebony Maw, but I guess that's just going to go on top of the 'horrible WIPs' pile. 
> 
> As usual, find me on tumblr [@bereft-of-frogs](https://bereft-of-frogs.tumblr.com/), where I am often dramatic and frequently post about sad space viking bros. Join me. XD
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Shares/Frogs always appreciated!


End file.
